But we had already been there 4 hours and with each minute without Scott, the gator jokes seemed less funny. Mike was ready to go home. I was too. But, as I said, I was determined. I decided to walk out into a little deeper water and feel around with my feet (in sandals). To keep me from getting bored, Mike kept telling me stories about how gators like to hang out under water waiting for something to get too close. Especially under logs like the one next to me (friends make any trip just that much more exciting). At any rate, almost immediately I felt all kinds of fossils. BIG fossils. If I had known more, I could have recognized them as just dugong rib bones and ignored them. But I didn't know what they were and I had to see. So I handed Mike the shovel, told hime to keep it buried in the ground right where it was (to mark a spot) and then I dove in. No snorkel, no fins, no mask. Just me. I couldn't see anything. I scooped my hands across the bottom and hoped I wouldn't cut myself to ribbons on a broken bottle or whatever. I came up with some big rib bones and other pieces of turtle shell, etc.